Page 33 of The Fox

I dress in a sheer bra and panty set, the pale blue a contrast I adore, and the style makes my full breasts look phenomenal. If I turn just right, my areolas are visible through the blue, and the stitched flowers cover my nipples in an effort to conceal them. I forget the demons that lurk upon my skin when I wear this bra. The panties rest snugly on my hips. The cut is high enough to allow a little buttcheek to be visible, while my thighs are fully exposed. They're soft along my love handles and are fitted against my skin so not a single line shows through my clothing. I hate panty lines almost as much as I hate men telling me what to do. I see the edge of a scar I keep hidden tucked along the hem, feeling my chest expand as I breathe deeply. There are parts of my body I refuse to show the world, and I find myself thankful I can wear these beautiful pieces while maintaining that resolve. I shake my head, telling myself that I don’t have time to slip into the past.

There are men who need to be reminded of their place in my world.

I slide the pants off the hanger, stepping into them, one foot at a time. Pulling them up over my thick thighs, I do a little shimmy to make sure they sit perfectly on my hips before fastening them. I shrug the vested top on, pulling it over my shoulders and buttoning it closed.

Men are predictable, in an almost pathetic way. They’ll focus on my breasts, and my mouth, while I scheme and walk circles around them. I reach under the vanity, grab my hair dryer with a diffuser attachment, and finish blow-drying my hair. My hair is voluptuous, the purple shining against my natural deep brown.

I look like temptation personified. Excellent. I’ll be the last vision they’ll see before they fall.

I’ll send them straight to hell.

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“Amelia, I think we can negotiate a trade in exchange for your allegiance to our partnership. Alonzo understands that you’re doing this alone. He is willing to help,” the elder of the two murmurs, clearly wanting to display a dominance that he is severely lacking. He assumes that by speaking quietly, I will trust him to handle such matters. “I’m sure that there is something a woman in your position desires. Perhaps some assistance in the politics of things?”

“Assistance.” I roll my eyes, scoffing at the men. I sit back in my chair, desperately wanting to cross my arms over my chest but I refrain. Jimmy Costa is no longer in a position to make asks or demands, and yet here he sits, trying to slip in like a snake.

“We know that you’ve had a rough couple of months,bambina.”

Bambina. Little girl. I haven’t been a child since I was thirteen.

My eyes narrow, intently focused on Jimmy. Time has not been kind to him. He is nearly bald, save a patch of hair around the base of his skull. Age spots dot his face, and the skin there has lost its tightness. His hands shake as he speaks, as if he can barely hold them up. I watch him with careful eyes. Jimmy may be fighting with his age, but a made man never stops living for the Mafia. He isn’t the threat, however. I don’t trust the man beside him. His eyes are far too eager, his posture too arrogant. He would love to take his brother’s seat, to usurp the current Don, but tradition holds him back.

For once, tradition is to my advantage. I cross a leg, the hem of my pants showing both my ankle and the studded stilettos I’d chosen to wear.

Do they kill my feet? Yes.

Could I kill a man with them? Also, yes.

“I know that this life isn’t meant for a woman. It is much too dark for you to navigate, the waters muddier than you should have to handle,” the younger man interrupts.

“No.”

I sit straight up, crossing my arms against my chest. If this fucker wants to play, all decorum goes out the window. I don’t know anything beyond this man’s name. I don’t need to. He wants everyone to ignore the way he is just a pawn in the larger chess game–-a player with no power.

“Now, now, Amelia. Don’t be rash. Your father would have wanted to ensure your territory was secure. This is the best way to do that.” Jimmy’s tone is cautious, his hand resting on Medina’s brother’s shoulder. A warning, I’m sure.

I tilt my head, running my middle finger across my bottom lip to give the illusion I’m actually considering this.What my father actually wanted was a son instead of a daughter, but we don’t always get what we desire.

“What do I get out of it? You get my men, my businesses, my pipelines. Where is the benefit for me?” I ask, my forehead wrinkling as my brows furrow.

“Me,” the young one answers. My finger stops its movement on my mouth. I sit for a heartbeat, letting him settle in his answer, unaware of the fatal flaw he’s just revealed to the woman sitting across from him.

“You?” I scoff at his audacity. “Tell me. What canyoudo that I cannot? You actually aren’t a stakeholder in this conversation, are you? No, you’re not even a Capo.” His eyes widen, confirming my statement. “You are merely a boy who happened to be born to the right asshole. The man next to you?” I nod my head toward Jimmy, emphasizing who really matters. “He’s the actual keymaster, isn’t he? You can’t deal with being second though, can you? You’ll never lead—not with your brother as Don.”

I watch as his face turns red, the arrogance becoming rage. Perfect.

“Here’s the deal,” I lean forward and drop my voice to just above a whisper. “I don’t actually need you. What was it you said?” I snap my fingers together a few times. “Ah, yes. Thisbambinais a fox. Did you know that foxes are actually docile creatures? They don’t attack and are known for their cunning mind.”

I stand, putting my hand in the pocket of my pantsuit, and feel for my beloved blade. I start to walk toward the old man, a plan formulating in my head. The sound of my heels clicking against the tiled floor is like a calling card to the demons that haunt me. I feel the mask slip over my soul, and the transformation into The Fox is second nature, as easy as breathing.

“But, when you corner a fox, and they have no other option? They’ll bite.” I flick my blade open, running it up Jimmy’s arm. “What did you think would happen? I don’t deal in bodies, I don’t deal in drugs.” I round the side of Jimmy’s chair to stand behind him. I can see the sweat dotting his bald head, and it gives me so much satisfaction. “I also don’t deal well with men.”

The blade reaches Jimmy’s neck as the younger leaps out of his seat, hand reaching for his gun. I tsk. So predictable, men with their guns. I wrap my hand on Jimmy’s forehead, pulling it back slightly before addressing Medina’s brother.

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m just a little girl, right? Surely you aren’t threatened by little, old me.” He hesitates, and I push my blade against the man’s neck with just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. I want them to squirm, to understand just who is in charge. “You wanted to negotiate, right? Fine, I’ll negotiate and you’ll sit down.”

I watch as the young man stands his ground, finger on the trigger despite not having a clear shot.

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